


confessions

by itachiscumsock



Category: Naruto
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itachiscumsock/pseuds/itachiscumsock
Summary: ╳┊ Confessions: Kiba Inuzuka x Readersometimes you should really, really, just keep your mouth shut.
Relationships: Inuzuka Kiba/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	confessions

_ Confession, _

  
  


There were times you cheated during games with your friends. You were a sneaky little thing, crafty in your executions, and at times it only felt like Kiba knew what you were doing, but hardly ever called you out. It seemed like a fun little joke between the two of you -- one of many -- and the surprises on your friends' faces when you keep winning was more than enough of a reward for your little cheating ways.

“You’re such a little  _ shit _ ,” he comments later, shoving your shoulder as you walk side by side down the street. You can’t help but laugh at his toothy grin, lips curling up into a mischievous smile. Kiba huffs as you grin up at him. “You always fucking cheat, and how come I’m the only one who catches you! Next time, I’m calling you out.”

It’s an empty promise, of course, one he’s made every time something like this happens. And, as always, all you do is stick your tongue out at him and coo gently.

“Stop lookin’ at me then-- you’ll stop catching me.”

He’d walk on and laugh, saying shit you’d always miss because god,  _ god _ , did you fucking love the way he laughed.

  
  


_ Confession,  _

  
  


Maybe you spent far too long thinking about the way Kiba touched you. Maybe, just maybe, there were times where he’s playfully put his arm around your shoulder and you’d pretend that this was real. That  _ maybe  _ there was more to the way he’d put his head on top of yours or play with the ends of your hair. 

Nights like this were the worst. You’d sit beside him with your legs in his lap, his arm draped over them. You can hardly focus on the movie when he does shit like this; in Kiba fashion he always has to be moving, so it’s no surprise when he takes up playing with a loose string on your pants, his hand brushing against your thigh every time he tugs on it. You swear you stop breathing every time he leans over more as he laughs, his mouth so close yet so far away from yours.

And maybe you could pretend that he enjoyed your company just as much as you enjoyed his. That his stomach would flip just as wildly as yours did whenever you’d touch him the same way. That little hope is what kept you both like this; whenever he’d move closer, you’d react, allowing yourself to lean into his touch. He never seemed bothered by it, because “ _ bros should be comfortable with one another, yeah? _ ” 

Comfortable enough for him to put his forehead on your shoulder, allowing his hot breath to hit your throat.

Comfortable enough for you to play with his hands whenever people weren’t really looking.

Comfortable enough for you to have a designated seat at his family’s dinner table, right between Kiba and his mother’s chair --  _ most comfortable seat in the house _ , she said -- and comfortable enough for him to have the same at yours.

  
  
  


_ Confession _ ,

“I think I’m in love with you.”

At first, you don’t think he heard you. You were both resting on his bed with only the moonlight seeping through the curtains to allow you to see his face. The tiredness was evident on his face, half hidden by the pillow he was resting on. A small pool of drool had already been forming from his mouth being slightly agape. Breathlessly, you watch as he begins to react; his mouth opens and shuts quickly, eyes widening.

As slow as his movements from before were, you were slightly surprised when he suddenly sits up, blanket falling from his chest. Kiba’s eyes are wide as he looks at you, mouth opening and shutting once more.

The silence between you two is so palpable that it nearly felt like a dream. Hell, maybe you were, and he was just --

“Do you mean it?” 

You swallow thickly as he stares at you. He’s leaned over more in his bed, a hand resting on a pillow to keep him up. At this angle he’s just a little below you, now hidden by your silhouette. He still looks so tired, mouth agape and eyes lidded as he looks up at you. You’re not entirely sure what expression he’s making -- maybe he thinks this is a dream, too -- but it tugs at your heart strings regardless.

“Yes,” you breathe out quietly, unsure if the word even left your tongue. Kiba moves closer, his expression changing to a more serious one. Man, had you ever seen him look so serious before? Maybe this shit was a bad idea-- he was probably way too tired to deal with what you were bringing to the table. Did you even have a plan going into this? What sort of tiredness induced confession were you spouting out, anyways? 

“I’m sorry, man, I’m sorry.” You retract yourself from your spot, causing him to dip on the bed from your lack of weight. “You know what, I should go. That was kinda shitty of me to just spring on you.” 

“Wait--”

“Like, I’m not even sure why I did it. You were just laying there and it just felt  _ right  _ and --”

“Hey!” 

There’s a moment of scrambling from his side, a mess of blankets jostling about. He’s mumbling to himself as he finally reaches his destination; sitting on the bed, his shirt askew and ridden up from his little personal wrestling match, and looks up at you. The moonlight pooling into his room doesn’t reach him with you standing there, but even in the absence of light you can see the way he looks up at you. You really fucked this up, didn’t you?

A hand gently grasps yours. There’s no time for your mind to race as his hands start to move, gentle strokes over your wrists and up your arms, the rough pads of his fingers a comfort. 

“Hey,” he whispers, his hands stopping at your elbows. In a gentle tug you’re now standing closer, his thumbs moving in circles against your skin. “Hey, man, you don’t have to go.”

“ _ Hey, man, you don’t have to go _ ,” you echoed, hands balling into fists. “Is that how you react when someone says they love you?” 

“You said think.” The motions he was making stopped, but he didn’t let you go. Hell, even in the little burst of anger you’re having, you didn’t  _ want  _ him to let you go. What a fool you were to ever admit something like this, let alone think he had the capacity to love you back. Maybe those nights where you spent in each other's arms on your couch really were just guys being dudes to him-- and despite knowing that’s how he probably felt, you know you’d do it all over again.

_ A fucking fool _ .

You removed your arms from his reach, and then took a step back once he tried to reach out for you again. 

“You know what I meant, Kiba. You might’ve been tired, but you know damn well what I said.”

“I’m not saying I don’t!” His voice raises, and now he’s taken to standing. “I’m not stupid, ____. I know what you meant.”

“Then why make me repeat myself like some fool? Do you know how hard it was to even admit that? How many years of courage I’ve had to build up?” You’ve taken to moving, now completely out of his reach. You go for your discarded clothes -- a jacket and your socks -- and begin to put them on, ignoring the way your hands were trembling as you did so. 

“Years?” You swear you could hear him choke the word out.

“Fucking years, Kiba. God, we must’ve been kids when it first started --”

“Kids?”

You wanted to stop to look up at him, but you knew that the moment you did, you wouldn’t get the ability to move again. There was so much happening at once that it took you two tries to get a single sock on, and you let out a frustrated groan. 

There’s movement, but you chose to ignore it. You hear the shuffling of his feet hitting the wooden floor and then suddenly he’s in front of you, and you make the painful mistake of looking up at him.

Over the years he’s taken to growing out his hair a bit, along with sometimes sporting facial hair every now and again -- at first you’d kind of hated it, but he looked so much more mature now that you honestly started to love it just as much as him. Now, standing before you, he really did look his age and not at all like the teenaged boy you’d fallen in love with years ago.

“Look, ____,”

“Just  _ stop _ .” 

Your voice was hoarse, the anxiety pumping through your veins so hard that you felt your heartbeat in your hands. 

For the second time that night, he takes them. Kiba takes a moment to squat down in front of you, now eye level with where you were sitting on a chair, and sighs.

“You never let me get a damn word in, you know?” He begins, his large hands covering yours. “You always do that shit -- you’re always talking, always cheating at games --”

“I’m sorry to be an inconvenience to you.” You wish there was vile to your voice, but you sounded too exhausted that you were sort of embarrassed even more by your own words.

“There you go, never letting me finish. Maybe I should just …”

In his pause, you decide to speak up once more. 

“Just  _ what _ , Kiba?”

Then he kisses you.

It’s soft, almost too soft to be from the gruff man in front of you, but it is. It tastes a bit salty, but as he pulls back, you realize that in the moments before, you’d been crying. If you could kick yourself at that moment, you would. Would everything you did tonight be this embarrassing? 

“You cheat at cards,” he starts, kissing you again. It’s quick, and suddenly he’s kissing at the corner of your mouth, hands now holding both sides of your face as he does so. “You interrupt me when I talk. You snore in your sleep.”

You chortle without meaning, and you couldn’t help but smile as he kisses your cheek. “I do not snore.”

“You totally do,” he assures, kissing the upper part of your cheek. “And I let you win at cards. Even when you cheat.”

“You do not.”

“I do. And I let you interrupt me because I like hearin’ you speak. You wanna know why?”

“Because you’re some kind of masochist?” 

He laughs, gruff and inviting, into your ear, and then he kisses your forehead. You allow yourself comfort in his motions as you let your hands rest on his arms, relishing in the warmth of his body. Kiba’s thumbs brush at your cheeks, and you can feel the streaks of tears that had silently fallen minutes ago. 

“Because I think I’m in love with you, too. Well, I know I am. Have been since we were kids.”

“Kids,” you repeat, leaning into his hand. 

“Since we were tiny little annoying crotch goblins, yeah. Want me to say it again?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, eyes closed and head shaking. “No, I really don’t want you to say  _ annoying crotch goblins _ again, Kiba. I can think of something else I’d rather hear, though.”

“Oh?” 

This time, it’s your turn to kiss him. The anxiety from before had stilled, allowing you to fully enjoy it this time. It’s just as slow as before, but longer; he’s holding your face in his hands so tightly that you’re enveloped in his warmth, and in order to pull back, you have to fully push on his chest to break away.

He’s back on you again so quickly that you barely have a chance to take a breath, and this time you take to pulling at the hair at the back of his head to keep him back.

“Down, boy. A bitch has to breathe, you know.”

Kiba laughs, leaning in to bite at your lip, and then pulls back again. 

“You should’ve known what you were getting yourself into when sayin’ that shit from earlier. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been dying to do that.”

His wolfish grin gives you a pause, and then you allow your hands to trail to his chest, resting on the front of his shirt. Then, offering him the same smile, you look up at him.

“Really? Why don’t you show me how badly you’ve wanted to, then?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

**Author's Note:**

> was posted to my tumblr as well, under the same name! my friends and I run it and do other fandoms as well, so if you ever want anything be sure to hit us up there and request it!


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